The Catcher in the Rye is the greatest book ever written. Basic take, I know.
I feel, in a sense, this is one of those books that receives a lot of praise and also a lot of criticism- however, and I’m not saying this to every hater of the book, I feel it is a book some people don’t get. One of my least favorite tropes of literary critique in the Goodreads age is saying “This character is morally ambiguous/not entirely likeable, therefore they are poorly written and the book is bad.” You think Salinger accidentally made Holden an unlikeable hypocrite?
Holden, in my opinion, is arguably one of the greatest characters of all time. It, of course, helps that he really is written like a teenager and not just what an adult thinks a teenager is like. However, that’s not what makes him a great protagonist. Like Tartt’s Richard Papen, Plath’s Esther Greenwood, or Wallace’s Don Gately, I don’t like him because he’s a good person or because I related to him, rather because I understand him.
The Catcher in the Rye takes place, for the most part, in a singular night. This book truly embodies the feeling of staying up too late and losing all meaning and ambition in life, realizing everything’s terrible. It’s a ridiculously small scope, but I could see myself in his shoes. I went to a scout camp over my 8th grade summer, and on the last night, I got diarrhea, a fever, and hardly had the energy to move because I had eaten so little (I have a small stomach!). This book felt EXACTLY like me staying up all night, unable to sleep in my hammock for reasons I don’t remember. I spent a lot of the night walking around in circles, and eventually slept until 4 am in the backseat of my dad’s car, which fortunately was unlocked. It was really cold and took a long time to get settled into. I was tossing and turning for about an hour and a half.
My point is, this book is excellent. The craft is miraculous, the writing style is flawless, and the story is deeply fascinating and, like The Bell Jar, a perfect portrayal of depression and despondence.
Hello, Person is a potent political satire a la David Foster Wallace, David Sedaris, David Berman, any good authors names David honestly. Consider this book’s ETA Hamburger U. and its Hal Incandenza none other than awkward and gangly Kevin Kapoor. This book’s key point is that it’s really funny. This can kind of distract you from the filler or “what happened to (X)” chapters if you just like to get to the point of what you’re reading, as reading an officially published work lacking an aura of complete effortlessness say the word “Juggalo.” It’s a pretty fantastic book although the down-to-earth and slice of life Part One where anything unrealistic or fantastical other than Phil himself is just driven from purely obeying the rules of a joke I vastly prefer to the odd apocalyptic ending that completely sends any down-to-earthness out the window. The book does a great job establishing its themes of corporate exploitation of resources through Phil, the dopey unicorn on the cover. The landscapes of stucco buildings and strip malls and large generically named corporations all out to get Phil- or on a metaphorical level, land, labor, and capital- it all weaves to you an image of the life we refuse to see, a life full of bland corporate scenery.
